


Maglor's Lament

by Sophia_the_Scribe



Series: The Scribe's Poesy [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 16:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16580057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_the_Scribe/pseuds/Sophia_the_Scribe
Summary: A poem for Maglor's regret and despair as he wanders the shores, forever divided from his kin by his guilt.





	Maglor's Lament

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "The Harp No Longer Sings," a painting by Jenny Dolfen.

The harp no longer sings,   
The days are dark and drear;   
Through many ages rings  
An ever-sorr'wing tear. 

For I remember yet  
The screams and tears and blood;   
And how could I forget  
The loss of all things good? 

How much were those ships worth?   
The lives of those who built?   
In Alqualondë's surf  
The blood our hands had spilt?

We damned us in that first   
Fulfillment of our oath,   
And evermore were cursed  
By that which I now loathe. 

We soon after betrayed   
Most faithful of our host;   
On them no oath was laid  
Yet they followed our trust. 

We took the ships we'd stole  
And laughed at how they'd fare;   
But when we'd burnt the whole,   
They Helcaraxë dared. 

The blood of those who died  
Is also ours to bear,   
And those who did survive  
Will ever see it there. 

Yet ever they did seek   
To right the wrongs we'd done,   
And ever we did keep  
To build them one-by-one. 

To many battles led   
The strongest of our host,   
And there to wolves were fed  
The bodies of the most. 

We many times found aid  
In our most darkened hour  
From they whom we'd betray  
Whene'er we'd have the power. 

By Finrod's might, not ours,   
By Beren's valor proved,   
By Lúthien's song and powers  
They did what we'd refused. 

But though it was their pain  
That bought the Silmaril  
We fought our kin to gain  
That jewel for which we'd kill. 

The heaviest on my hands   
Of all the dead that day:   
The princes of the land  
By cruel starvation slain. 

And still we did not get  
For what we'd so much lost-  
Our oath could not forget,   
However high the cost. 

Again upon the quays  
Our kindred cruelly slew,   
And yet over the seas  
The Jewel from us flew. 

But when, by that Jewel's might,   
One man the Valar sought,   
They won for us the fight  
Our father's Fire had wrought. 

And still their thankless trust  
We paid as always do:   
Betrayed them all for lust,   
To give our oath its due. 

One final time we stole  
And bore them far away;   
But now we could not hold:   
They burnt our hands that day. 

So now, one in the sky,   
One cast into the sea,   
The last in earthly fire:   
Those holy, curséd three. 

Now I alone am here  
To wander by the shore,   
Regret and pain in tears  
To ponder evermore. 

Come true my deepest fears:   
Forsaken evermore. 


End file.
